


Do You Wanna?

by samadnriel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drunk Castiel, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Kissing, Human Castiel, I guess???, M/M, Season/Series 08 Spoilers, not really confessions as much as it is other things but whatever, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-02-21 23:29:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2486204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samadnriel/pseuds/samadnriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is drunk. Dean isn't so much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do You Wanna?

All Dean heard was a mumbled “Do you wanna?” leaving a very drunk Castiel’s mouth before the latter fell to the floor, beer bottle and everything.

Dean laughed for at least two minutes and took another gulp of his beer before he realised that Cas was _actually_ stuck.

“What am I gonna do with you, Cas?” he asked, grinning to himself and pushing himself up out of his chair before he moved over to Cas, picking him up and all but throwing him over his shoulder, figuring that a fireman’s lift was the best way to get Cas out of his… situation. The last thing Dean wanted was a drunken Castiel puking over the carpet, because as much as he loved him, there were some things that he just wouldn’t (willingly) do and cleaning up puke was one of them.

“C’mon,” he muttered in mock exasperation, walking through the hallway to one of the many bedrooms, Castiel over his shoulder and a half full beer bottle swaying dangerously by his side.

“I dunno,” Cas slurred, giggling to himself. “What _are_ you gonna do wi’ me, Dean?” Dean was about to ask what the hell he was giggling at when he found out after having been slapped on the ass.

“Dammit, Cas, save somethin’ for the bedroom,” he teased, nudging the door to the spare room open with his foot so he wouldn’t end up losing balance, which, given the current situation, was something that would be very possible to do. It wouldn’t be intentional, of course; as much as Dean (secretly) sometimes wanted to get on top of Cas (or even vice versa,) he wouldn’t intentionally drop him. He’d throw him on a bed and do things the proper way, sweet and slow, because, secretly, under his ‘I’m a human now and I _will_ survive it,’ exterior, Dean knew that all Castiel wanted was a little bit of affection.

Now, however, was not one of those times. It was with that frame of mind that Dean all but threw Cas down on the bed, memory foam courtesy of the Men of Letters providing a semi-soft landing so he didn’t feel _that_ bad for dropping him.

“ _Dean_ ,” Cas whined, the beer bottle falling to the floor with a loud clunk as he spread out over the bed. Dean just raised an eyebrow. “Do you wanna make love to me?”

Cas’ voice only slurred a tiny bit as he forced himself to sit up, looking Dean dead in the eye with a completely serious look on his face. Dean was only half certain that it was the alcohol. He sighed, meeting Castiel’s gaze with an almost soft expression on his face as he walked over to the bed, sitting down hesitantly on the edge.

“Don’t we all?” he asked, forcing an amused smile onto his face though his voice still had an undeniable sadness about it.

Castiel pouted - a gesture which would be denied ever being created when a certain someone was sober - and gave Dean what he thought was a seductive look. “C’mon, I know you wanna,” he said, his voice deliberately husky, and he even waggled his eyebrows.

“Doesn’t matter what I want, Cas, you’re drunk,” Dean murmured, moving so he was sitting cross-legged a couple of feet across from Castiel.

“So you wanna?” Cas seemed almost triumphant in his response, a bright, wholehearted smile on his face, and even though his eyes became unfocused every once in a while and he sometimes swayed back and forth before catching himself and stopping, and even though Dean knew that Cas was wildly inebriated and definitely out of it and definitely ‘not in his right mind’, he couldn’t help but smile back.

“Doesn’t matter,” Dean insisted, deliberately not answering the question in fear of doing something he - or Cas - would regret in the morning.

“I knew it! I knew you liked me,” Cas grinned, leaning forward and giving a surprised Dean a bone crushing hug. “Honestly, I’ve dreamt - yeah, I actually have dreams now, ain’t that weird - about this. You’d end up fuckin’ me erry- evry- ev-er-ry-where and--”

“Cas,” Dean interrupted, his voice quiet and had a finality to it that even a drunken Castiel couldn’t deny.

“Oh,” was all Castiel said, his voice even quieter than Dean’s. He slowly pulled away from the embrace he had given Dean, tilting his head to the side with a confused look on his face. “You _don’t_ like me?”

Dean couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. “Of course I like you, douchebag,” he murmured, looking up at him with a sheepish smile, though he made no move towards Castiel.

“No, you don’t, otherwise you’d’ve let me carry on,” Cas insisted, frowning. “You could’ve said earlier, y’know; now I jus’ feel stu--”

The rest of the sentence was muffled by Dean pressing his lips against Castiel’s, a low moan escaping from his mouth. The kiss was all lips and teeth and hot and wet and they were gasping and moaning and it was sloppy, but it was Castiel and it was Dean and they were together and that was all either of them cared about.

“Don’t you ever-” Dean breathed, pulling away from Castiel’s lips with an almost angry glint in his eye. Cas’ pupils were dilated and all Dean could think about was how much that look suited him and how much hotter it would be when he was grasping Cas’ hair back and forcing their eyes to meet as he made him come, and then he would kiss him again and it’d be just as sloppy as the first time, but he just wouldn’t _care_. “Don’t you ever call yourself stupid again, Cas. You ain’t stupid.”

Cas said nothing. It took a few minutes of him hiding in the crook of Dean’s neck for Dean to realise that Cas had fallen asleep.

“Honestly, Cas,” he mumbled, gently laying Cas down on the bed. Cas seemed to start to reach out for something, but he gave up halfway through; his hand was halfway between his side and Dean’s thigh, as if waiting for Dean to make the rest of the effort, but the latter couldn’t: there was a sense of guilt hanging over him like a grey cloud on a summer’s day, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake it. He settled for gazing over Castiel with a soft, indisputable twinkle in his eye and a tiny, loving smile on his face. “What am I gonna do with you?”


End file.
